What comes after darkness?
by Mokulule
Summary: She almost wants to laugh. But she is afraid that if she makes even the slightest sound, she will tell them. That the words will just spill from her lips. Even while they beat her and use her body in most horrible ways. No sound. Just her ragged breathing


Disclaimer: This is purely fan made and I hold no illusions of being the owner of Naruto.

**What comes after Darkness?**

It is dark. It has been so for a long time – too long. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes this method. First there is darkness, then... What comes after darkness? She knows the answer to this question, dammit. There's slight pain as her hands grips the dirty mass that could once be considered hair. She was always good at this kind of thing. For a long time it was the only thing she was good at; book stuff, theory. Bony fingers tightens even further, but they no longer actually hold the strength to pull out the protein based strands. What comes after darkness? Frustration rushes through her. If only that incessant dripping would stop. It completely ruins her focus. Every time her brain tries to gather the scattered strings that is her process of thought, that drop of water will ram down and scatter them even more.

Drop... Drop... Drip....

Drop... Drop... Drip....

She knows it is just another part of it. Drop. There is no other sound but. Drop. There is silence except for. Drip.

She knows. She **knows** _they_ are trying to break her. _They_ are desperate to do so. _They _had tried everything else before. _They_ want to know... What **did** _they_ want to know? It escapes her mind. She doesn't quite know. She furrows her brows. What comes after darkness? It doesn't matter she decides. She **will not **tell _them! _A maniacal grin spreads across her features. She is certain it is maniacal, cause she feels quite insane. But no one is there to see. She wouldn't be able to see herself without a mirror. But even if there was a mirror she wouldn't be able to **see**. She can't **see**!Her eyes are open, but she can't **see.** Are her eyes even open? Maybe that is why she can't see. Foolish little girl she was. Of course she can't see if her eyes aren't even open.

Dirty fingers disentangles from sticky strands. They didn't use o feel like that. She ponders for a moment. They used to feel different... they used to feel nice in a way. But she has a feeling her perception of the word nice has changed since those strange strands sticking to her head had felt so. Enough of that. Bony fingers fumble their way across a face. She feels a strange need to giggle, such a wide forehead. There's something that tickles the back of her mind. A memory perhaps, but it does not matter! Better she does not know anything! Cause then she can't tell them. They'll hit her and break her bones and it will feel so very _good! _Because they get angry and frustrated. She will feel it reverberate in every pore of her body. That just below the surface lies their fear of the repercussions. Cause they will never make her speak. She has no idea how many have tried to interrogate her, but she knows they tend to get changed once in while. She also have a good idea of what happens to them. The screams from the other cells are so very fulfilling. It gives her power, so much _power_. She almost wants to laugh, almost. But she is afraid that if she makes even the slightest sound, she will tell them. That the words will just spill from her lips. So she keeps her silence. Like she has done for this eternity. Even while they beat her and use her body in most horrible ways. No sound. Just her ragged breathing.

Her pinky bumbles against her nose. There was a time when it was straight she's sure of it. But she never set it straight anymore, they will just break it another day. She doesn't feel anything really. Or maybe she has just overloaded. She is sure that she is supposed to feel pain all over. That the broken bones, the bruises should hurt most excruciatingly. But there is nothing. Just the cold.

Next is her lips. Dry. Swollen. Never been kissed. But what a silly thought. If she can't even feel her broken bones then how should she be able to feel something like a kiss. Light and fluttering. Like ones heartbeat in the springtime. Just a simple touch. Comfort. Warmth. Hope.

There is no such thing as hope for her. Just grim satisfaction as former tormentors scream for hours. Grim satisfaction as silence reigns again. Unlike her they are allowed to cross the line she is balancing on. They will not let her cross, not until she tells. Does that mean she will forever be balancing? That she will never die?

Grimy fingers feel their way to her eyes. Now she just have to open them. So that she can _see_ again. Confusion rips through her as a scream rips through the silence. Shredding it like a knife through dry paper. Surprised her hands fall into her lap. The silence returns only broken by the dripping. It really bothers her. The dripping. It has equal intervals except every third drop. It has somewhat of a lag so that it becomes more of a drip. She wants it to stop - so very badly. _Stop it, stop it_, she chants in her head. Anything to break the dripping. She remembers then. The scream tore through it all. She wonders where it came from. She had heard nothing but the dripping since she was put into this small box. Surprised she comes to realize that her throat is sore. Even more startling is when she comes to the conclusion that she was the one to scream.

Drop... Drop... Drip....

She takes a deep breath and screams. Screams with all her might. Drowns out the dripping with the scream of the insane. The scream turns to laughter, pained and crazed with absolutely no inhibitions; she feels pain. Pain in her parched throat, in her voiceband that has not uttered a single sound in a passing eternity. She laughs cause she doesn't know what else to do. Somewhere _they_ stand and think that she's breaking. It's so damn funny. Cause she will never tell and she laughs until she's got no more breath and then some more, because it's just that _funny_. What comes after darkness? She draws in a pained breath and lets it wheeze out between her teeth. She don't know. She don't remember. Rocking back and forth knees drawn to her chin she tries to remember. Her mind is all sluggish.

What comes after darkness? After darkness comes... After darkness comes... space. They will take away her space. Just as she finishes that train of thought the walls of her box draw nearer. Uncontrollable fits of laughter rolls of her bony frame. So very predictable. Next they will take away her air. Jutting shoulders shakes with mirth as she feel her breath coming short. Dark wisps of cloud seep into the edges of her mind. She's passing out due to lack of oxygen. When she awakes again they will question her again. That's the way of things.

Just as darkness claims her, she wonders why she doesn't just tell them and get it over with. Then she remembers. She remembers two pairs of eyes. Onyx and Sapphire. They belong to two boys. Different like the moon and the sun. Like night and day. _Her_ boys.

She will never tell.

Oo o oO

Another crazy experiment from your's truly. This came about from my want to write something in present tense, I hope it's not too crazy.

It fits into a storyverse which I call 'worst case scenario', that I'm working on and off from. For now this storyverse consist of this oneshot, the oneshot 'Worst case scenario' that starts all this mess, the immediate sequel to 'Worst case scenario' called Hope, and finally the sequel to 'What comes after darkness?' called Light. None of these have been posted yet. Each story will be written so that is can stand alone like this one.

I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing, ja ne!


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